


Limitless

by VesperRegina



Category: Galileo (TV Japan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperRegina/pseuds/VesperRegina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukawa Manabu and summer rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limitless

Yukawa Manabu was the type of child who stood out in the rain. He wouldn't have been able to give you excuses when he was a child, and even now, that's too far in the past for him to deign to justify how it made everything come alive.

Torrential storms would come -- they always did -- when the seasons changed, but even those would give way to cloud cover, but no thunder, fat drops of rain, but no lightning. Those drops would sizzle when they hit concrete, cast up a smell that he wanted to bury his nose in and breathe forever, but it was the wet that he craved the most, getting his clothes plastered to his skin, and watching drops roll off his eyelashes, a macrocosm of the world around him reduced by refraction into a microcosm. It would drip from his hands, streaming down. He couldn't catch it, no matter how hard he tried.

He never believed anyone who told him he'd catch a cold, either, if he was out too long. His mother never told him this; he didn't even know that's what mothers were supposed to say, but there were others, eventually, trying to set limits. He'd correct them; tell them there was no proof.

No one has ever asked Yukawa what he considers the color of summer to be. No one has ever asked, but he'd still have an answer ready. The color of summer was in the specificity of light, rainbows arcing into the horizon, vanishing into the earth, the golden rays of the setting sun casting across to a wall of dark clouds. It was a progression of events that never changed, light splitting into component wavelengths, but it was still magic, the stillness after the rain, the contrast of light and dark casting trees into relief. Bundled up into a thick towel, he'd count seconds, the time passing into inevitability: the end of the storm, and the play in the light, and warmth of the water from the sky.


End file.
